


These Hearts Adore

by liquemortem



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Guitarist Jean Kirstein, M/M, Texting, or i guess adversaries to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquemortem/pseuds/liquemortem
Summary: In which a college dorm party guitarist calls Armin quite a few nicknames... and maybe steals his heart.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 12
Kudos: 120





	These Hearts Adore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brix/gifts).



> This was a birthday gift for my best friend! She encouraged me to post it here, so please enjoy 17,000 words of fluff and nonsense.

October 10 

**Eren Jaeger:**

[9:37 pm] **armin dude where are you??**

[9:37 pm] **mikasa and i are outside and this party sounds dope**

[9:39 pm] _I’m on my way!! I got a little lost haha_

[9:39 pm] **well hurry it up!!! I heard the guys in ragako are total beasts**

[9:40 pm] **also how did you get lost**

[9:40 pm] **its like a five minute walk from your dorm**

[9:41 pm] **did you like. miss a turn??**

[9:41 pm] **i don’t know how you could have tho**

[9:42 pm] **it’s a dorm surrounded by 10 identical dorms its pretty easy to locate**

[9:45 pm] _I don’t want to talk about it_

[9:47 pm] **holy shit wait**

[9:47 pm] **did you walk into the wrong dorm**

[9:47 pm] _I SAID I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT_

[9:47 pm] **HA**

[9:48 pm] **HAHAHA**

[9:48 pm] **HANG ON I HAVE TO TELL MIKASA**

[9:48 pm] _Please no_

[9:49 pm] **THIS IS SO GOOD**

[9:49 pm] **what happened when you walked in**

[9:50 pm] **you have to tell me**

[9:51 pm] _It was so awkward please don’t make me relive the experience_

[9:51 pm] **PLEASE I HAVE TO KNOW**

[9:54 pm] _Hmmm ahhhh sorry I’m actually at the dorm now! And we can never talk about this again! Never again!_

Armin pulled his jacket tighter around him as he jogged towards the front doors of Ragako Hall. Eren and Mikasa were waiting expectantly for him. “Which hall?” called Mikasa once he was in earshot.

“Nope!” replied Armin. “Absolutely not!”

“You’re impossible!”

“Always!” 

Eren cracked up as Armin finally reached them. “You ready for this?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He followed his two best friends into the hall, enjoying the blast of heat against the cool autumn temperature.

The party had just started, but it was already bustling. It hadn’t taken long for someone to bust out the alcohol, and beers were being handed out like rations. People congregated in clumps in the halls and lounges visible; Armin suspected there would be even more in the rooms down either side.

Somewhere, Armin heard the sounds of an acoustic guitar--someone playing a rather messy rendition of John Lennon’s Imagine. Armin had heard about the guys who brought their guitars to parties, hoping to garner some attention and get some action, but he always assumed that that was a stereotype that never actually happened in real life. The clumsy chords sounding through the dorm hall told him otherwise.

“This party _slams_.” Eren had to shout to be heard over the noise of the crowd. “Where to?”

“I don’t even know,” said Mikasa. “There are so many people here.”

A flash of familiar dark hair caught Armin’s eye in the lounge to the right. “Ah--wait, over here!” He led them forward and straight up to Marco Bodt--another freshman he had met in his mystery fiction course. 

“Armin!” Marco greeted him with an easy smile. “Hey. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Ah, you know.” Armin shrugged. “This is Eren and Mikasa. Guys, this is Marco.”

General hellos were exchanged. The guitar playing had gotten louder. Armin peeked around Marco’s shoulder to see a guy sitting cross-legged on the table, strumming a guitar and belting an off-key solo that would have made John Lennon himself cringe.

“Oh, my god,” said Mikasa, joining Armin in staring at the guitar-player. “This is sad.”

The poor guy was clearly drunk. He had two-toned hair--light brown on top and dark underneath, shaved into an undercut. He was swaying back and forth a bit, though it wasn’t on beat and Armin could have bet money that he wasn’t aware he was doing it.

“We have to stay and watch,” said Eren. “This is too good.”

Marco patted Armin on the shoulder. “I’d better step back for a bit. I’ll catch up with you later?”

“Sure,” Armin said, his attention still on the guitarist. He had now finished the song and was bowing his head at the crowd as though they were applauding. Mostly they were just laughing at him. 

“Come on,” Eren said, prodding Armin forward. “I want a good view.”

Armin rolled his eyes but complied, pushing forward until they were in the front row of the crowd.

“...and this lovely lady is Sexy Susan,” Undercut was saying, lovingly patting the bottom of the guitar. “She’s a real beaut, isn’t she? She’s like… My _muse._ ”

Mikasa snorted. Armin wasn’t sure he had heard the guitar dude right. There was no way in hell he had named his guitar _Sexy Susan_.

“He’s playing a character,” said Armin. “Right?”

“I think he’s just… _like that_ .” Eren didn’t bother to hide his wide grin. “Dude’s a walking stereotype and I don’t even think he _knows_.”

“I take requests,” Undercut continued. “Anything you want!”

“Play Wonderwall!” shouted someone from the crowd.

“Oh, _hell_ yeah,” slurred the guy. He rearranged his fingers and strummed a dissonant approximation of the first chord. “It, uh… _Fuck me,_ what are the words?” He fumbled for another few seconds--quite honestly, it was kind of painful to watch--before gasping and warbling, “ _TO-DAY, is gonna be the day--_ ”

Armin cringed. He was _bad_. Like, cut off your own ears Van Gogh-style bad. He got the chords right about twenty percent of the time, but considering he was only playing half the chords, that didn’t account for much.

The chorus came around, and Armin was starting to feel seriously bad for this guy. By this point, the crowd looked about ready to walk away, or murder him, or both. He paused, trying to get the next chord, and Armin glanced at Eren sympathetically.

Eren met Armin’s look with one of his own and cleared his throat. “ _Cause mayyyybeeeee…_ ”

He wasn’t that good, either, but at least he was sober enough to hold basic pitch and rhythm. Armin and Mikasa joined in quickly, and it didn’t take long for the rest of the crowd to jump in as well. Wonderwall, for all its notoriety, truly is a song that brings people together, and every student pursuing higher education in the country knows the words to the chorus. Undercut looked up from his guitar to see a dozen drunk college kids swaying back and forth, yelling Oasis lyrics at the top of their lungs. He grinned as his voice lead the group:

“ _After all… You’re my wonderwall!”_

Everyone cheered, more for themselves than for the guitarist, and Undercut took the opportunity to bow his head. “Thanks for the praise! Sexy Susan and I will be here all night!”

Someone threw a red Solo cup over his head. He didn’t seem to notice.

“This is just embarrassing,” Eren whispered to Armin. Undercut was soliciting specific members of the crowd for requests now, hoping to lead another rousing chorus. People were walking away as he was trying to talk to them. Clearly they had had enough.

“Should we… do something?” Armin asked. “Order him an Uber, maybe?”

Mikasa shrugged. “He’ll be fine. I’d rather not stay for the encore performance. Come on.”

The three turned to walk away just as Undercut saw them in the crowd. “Hey! Hey you! Got any requests?” When they didn’t turn back around, he upped the volume. “ _Hey!_ I’m talking to you, Coconut Head!”

Armin stopped dead in his tracks. 

“The _fuck_ did he just call you?” Eren’s fists were already clenched.

Undercut, the bastard, was only encouraged by the fact that Armin had stopped moving. “Yeah, you! 90s Ellen! Fuckin’... Blond Dora! Request something!”

“Holy shit,” whispered Armin. “I’m going to kill this guy.”

“I’ll do it for you.” Eren turned, looking half-ready to kick Undercut’s ass into next week.

“Well? What do you want to hear?”

 _The sound of Sexy Susan smashed to pieces,_ Armin thought. Out loud he hissed, “Shut _up,_ asshole.”

He grabbed Eren by the elbow, trying to tug him away before things got ugly.

Undercut laughed. “Aw, what, you shy or something?”

Armin’s grip tightened on Eren’s arm, but he kept moving until they were both several rooms away. Mikasa followed close behind, helping to usher Eren away.

“Bullshit!” Eren exploded once they were in the lounge on the other side of the hall. “Literal _bullshit_.”

“It’s fine,” Armin assured. He wasn’t _angry_ so much as he was _uncomfortable_. He hated being called out, especially in crowds like that. Plus… Well, “Blond Dora” had kind of stung.

“Just forget it,” said Mikasa. “We’ll probably never see him again anyways.”

Eren grumbled something, but it seemed like he was calming down a bit.

“Let’s just try to enjoy the party,” Armin suggested.

It was good advice, for Eren and Mikasa at least. Eren loved the atmosphere that huge social events created, and though Mikasa was far more introverted, even she could have a great time if there was good music and maybe a place to sit down for a while every now and again. Armin didn’t quite have their affinities for parties. Mostly he stuck next to Mikasa or sat by himself and watched. He didn’t mind so much, though. He just liked having any excuse to hang out with his best friends since childhood. 

“I’m going to find the bathroom,” he shouted at one point into Eren’s ear--the only way Eren would have been able to hear him over the din of the party. Eren gave him a thumbs up and turned his attention back to whatever tabletop drinking game was at hand. Armin didn’t actually need to _use_ the restroom, but it was a good excuse to find someplace quiet and take a break from the chaos for a second.

His respite came not from a dorm bathroom, but from an abandoned table back on the other side of the hall. Most people had migrated over to the music and games in the other lounge, leaving only a few stragglers behind. Armin didn’t mind them so much. He could deal with a few drunk guys occasionally bounding their way through the room. It was a lot better than the attack on the senses the core of the party tended to be.

It was here, resting his arms against the table and idly scrolling through Instagram on his phone, that the worst possible circumstance happened.

“Hey, Coconut Head!”

Armin stiffened. 

That Wonderwall asshole from earlier leaned into his line of sight, propping himself up on his elbows over the table. “You listened to me play earlier, right?”

Armin shrugged. His brain was going a mile a minute, scanning for any way out of this situation.

“What’d you think?” Undercut shot Armin a lopsided, shit-eating grin. “Pretty good, huh?”

“Sure,” Armin said. He wasn’t Eren, who could say what he was really thinking without hesitation, or Mikasa, who would come up with a biting retort before Undercut had even finished talking. Armin had none of their courage or wit. It left him at a severe disadvantage in situations like this, left alone to fend off against a terrible, narcissistic college dorm party guitar player. 

“Glad you liked it.” Undercut turned so his back was against the table, elbows braced against the top and hands dangling over the edge, surveying the party with all the ease and confidence of a king looking over his subjects. A rather drunk, incredibly self-absorbed king. “You know, that girl you were with was kind of cute. The dark haired one?” His hazel eyes gazed at Armin through lowered lashes. “Maybe tell her that the guitarist from earlier would love to chat with her?”

Oh my god. Narcissist Guitarist was trying to flirt with Mikasa. And even worse, he was trying to use _Armin_ to do it.

“I’m good,” said Armin, deeply flustered. “She’s good. Uh, we’re both good.” He grabbed his water and turned to walk away.

“Let me know if you change your mind!” Armin could practically hear the grin in Undercut’s voice. “I’d really love to _make some_ _music_ with her sometime!”

If Armin had been a braver person--Eren or Mikasa--he probably would have put up his middle finger. Instead, he just wordlessly kept walking.

October 12 

Armin burst into Eren’s dorm room, slamming the door behind him. “You’re never going to guess who I just saw.”

Mikasa glanced up from her phone. “In the bathroom?”

“Yes, in the bathroom.” Armin was shaking. “Oh my God. Holy shit.”

“Dude, I don’t know.” Eren scratched his head. “Uh… Elton John or some shit?”

“Elton-- _no_ , it wasn’t Elton John. Jesus.”

“It was Jesus?” asked Mikasa.

“I hate you. I hate you both.”

“I don’t know. Who?”

“The--the dude! The dude with the guitar! From that party at Ragako!”

“Oh, shit!” said Eren. “Jean Kirschtein?”

It occurred to Armin that he had never heard Undercut’s name before. “Uh, yeah! Yes! Him!”

“I fuckin’ hate that guy!” Eren’s face had assumed its familiar expression of Pissed Off. “He’s always playing super loud, super awful music in the middle of the night.”

“He _lives_ here?”

“Yeah, in 206.”

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me that Wonderwall lived three rooms down from you?”

“I don’t know! You didn’t ask!”

“This is ridiculous,” Mikasa said. “Who cares about _Jean Kirschtein_?”

“He called me _Coconut Head_!”

“Okay, and? He’s kind of right.”

Armin ignored Eren’s laughter. “And he flirted with you!”

Mikasa made a face. “Uh, no he didn’t.”

“He--” Armin huffed. “He _did_ . Through me. He hit on me _for_ you.”

Eren was doubled over with laughter by this point.

“Nevermind,” said Mikasa. “I take back what I said. This dude is shit and you should avoid him at all costs.”

“Thank you!”

“What did he do when you saw him?” Eren had barely collected himself enough to form a sentence. “Did he--Did he have his guitar? _Sexy Susan_?”

“I _wish_ ,” Armin said. “No, he was just, like… A guy.”

“Did he say anything to you? Like… did he call you Coconut Head again?”

“I don’t think he recognized me.”

“Oh,” said Mikasa, going back to her phone. “Lame.”

“I just can’t believe he lives on your floor.” Armin looked at Eren. “You said he plays guitar a lot?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Eren groaned. “And he always leaves his door open so everyone else can hear it. It’s like he thinks he’s God’s gift to dorm halls.”

Armin was going to say more, but paused. The faint sound of strumming could be heard nearby, followed by a low voice crooning a rather familiar tune… 

“Oh my god,” said Mikasa. “Is he playing _Country Roads?_ ”

He was. 

“This is insane,” Armin said. “This dude is _insane_.”

“I don’t know, Armin.” Mikasa glanced up with a raised brow. “Seems to me like the two of you keep meeting. Might be fate.”

“Please.” Armin snorted. “If I never see him again, it’ll be too soon.”

October 14 

“Thanks for coming back to my dorm with me.” Marco turned his key in the lock and leaned against the door. “I promise it’ll just be a second for me to grab my charger.”

“No problem.” Armin stepped inside. Marco’s half of the room was organized and put exactly into place--a huge contrast from his roommate’s side. “I don’t mind.”

Marco shot him a smile before moving towards his desk. “It should be right--huh.” He stopped, frowning. “It isn’t… Oh shit! I think I let Sasha borrow it.” He looked at Armin apologetically. “Do you mind sitting here for a moment while I grab it from her? She’s just upstairs.”

“Sure,” said Armin. 

“You’re a saint,” said Marco. “I’ll be back in a sec!”

He scurried out of the room, leaving Armin alone.

Being alone in someone else’s room, as Armin soon came to realize, is really, really awkward. It felt too strange to sit down anywhere, so he instead remained standing, crossing his arms and hoping Marco came back soon. He didn’t mind the wait, but it felt like an intrusion of privacy to be alone in his room--and alone in a _stranger’s_ room, technically, since Armin didn’t even know who his roommate was.

A voice came from the door.

“Oh, hey. You’re Armin, right?”

Armin turned around--and lo and befuckinghold, standing in the doorway with his hands braced against the frame, was Undercut. No, not Undercut--Eren had said his name was _Jean Kirschtein_. Armin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. A pretentious name befitting a pretentious asshole.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Um… hi.”

Jean nodded and squeezed past Armin into the room. “Marco talks about you all the time. You’re in his fiction class, right?”

“Yeah,” Armin managed, but his mind was whirring. How did Jean know Marco? Why had he so casually entered someone else’s room? And why was he now rifling through the bag on the bed across from Marco’s--the bed that belonged to Marco’s roommate?

“Oh,” said Armin suddenly, “ _you’re_ Marco’s roommate.”

Jean flashed him a smile. “Guilty as charged.”

Of course this would happen. Of course the best friend that Armin had made at college was living with The Wonderwall Kid. Of course they both lived down the hall from Armin’s best friend since grade school. And of _course_ the bastard in question was not only charming and friendly, but also didn’t seem to recall his interaction with Armin at Ragako Hall at all. Or if he did, he wasn’t acknowledging it.

“So,” Jean continued, “what brings you by?”

“Oh,” Armin stuttered, “um, I’m just, uh… Waiting for Marco to get his charger.”

And then he saw it. That damned guitar. Sexy Susan. Leaning right against the bedframe. Armin couldn’t believe he didn’t see it earlier. That should have been his first red flag--the first sign to turn and go immediately. 

“That’s cool.” Jean found whatever it was he was looking for and sat back on his bed, picking up his guitar. He idly picked at a few chords as he spoke. “You’re friends with Eren Jaeger, right? He lives just down the hall.”

Before Armin could respond, he was interrupted by another voice from the door. “Armin, you ready?”

“Yes,” he blurted, turning quickly. “Yeah. I am.”

“Sweet.” Marco glanced behind him at Jean. “Oh, hey!”

Jean nodded in response. “Nice to meet you, Armin.”

Armin half turned as he was walking out. “Yeah, nice to meet you.”

He couldn’t walk out of the room fast enough.

October 17 

Another Saturday, another party.

They went pretty much the same every time, meaning Armin had once again stolen a moment away to himself and snuck off to find a quiet place in the dorm. It was in Trost Hall this time--Eren’s dorm--so luckily Armin was pretty familiar with the layout. He made a beeline towards the first floor men’s restroom, desperate for a moment alone.

A voice through the halls stopped him in his tracks.

“ _We’re talking away… I don’t know what I’m to say, I’ll say it anyway…”_

Holy shit. That voice. Armin _knew_ that voice.

He turned into the common room to see Undercut-- _Jean Kirschtein_ \--sitting, as always, with Sexy Susan in his lap. He hadn’t yet seen Armin.

“ _Take… on… me…_ ”

Clearly, whatever had happened with Wonderwall had been some kind of alcohol-induced fluke, because Jean was good. Like, _really_ good. It was a slower version of the song, and the way he played it made it sound like an acoustic guitar standard as opposed to high-energy synth-y 80s pop. His fingers picked the strings with expert precision, and his voice was clear and sure, even on the high notes. _Especially_ on the high notes.

There was a small crowd gathered around him, but they weren’t jeering or making fun as they had the other night. They were listening to him play, sincerely and reverently. For all of the arrogance it took for Jean to bring his guitar and play outdated Top 40 hits at dorm parties, no one could deny that he was genuinely talented.

Armin sat next to Marco, listening intently as Jean nailed every note and every chord. It seemed strange to him that the drunk bastard who had called him Coconut Head and the boy immaculately playing an 80s pop song like it was a classic love ballad could be the same person.

He applauded with the rest of the crowd as Jean finished the song. There was no sarcasm or heckling this time, and Jean took the praise with humility and grace. If Armin wasn’t sure that the Narcissist Guitarist at Ragako and this clearly talented musician at Trost weren’t both Jean Kirschtein, he easily could have believed that they were two very different people. 

“Thanks for listening,” Jean said, pausing to take a sip from his water bottle. “Let’s speed things up with a little bit of Blink-182.”

He began, for lack of a better word, _shredding_ out some chords as he sang: “ _All the! Small things!”_

 _Nevermind,_ thought Armin. _Definitely still the same person._

October 18 

**???:**

[9:58 pm] **hey this is jean**

[9:58 pm] **jean kirschtein**

[9:59 pm] **from trost hall**

[9:59 pm] **marco gave me your number i hope that’s alright**

[10:07 pm] _Yeah it’s fine_

[10:09 pm] _Is there something I can help you with?_

[10:11 pm] **yeah actually there is**

[10:11 pm] **marco said he thought you had a copy of pride and prejudice and i was wondering if i could borrow it? i need it for my 19th century fiction class**

[10:12 pm] **i’ll bring it back in pristine condition of course**

[10:13 pm] _Uh yeah that’s fine_

[10:13 pm] _I can give it to Eren tomorrow to give to you?_

[10:14 pm] **uh actually i was hoping i could pick it up tonight**

[10:15 pm] **i’ve really procrastinated on this assignment haha**

[10:16 pm] _Oh um sure that’s fine_

[10:17 pm] **great thanks so much**

[10:17 pm] **i can drop by in 10 to get it**

[10:18 pm] _No don’t bother_

[10:18 pm] _I’m in the area I’ll come to you_

“Thanks for meeting me.” Jean was standing outside of Trost Hall, his hands deep in his sweatshirt pocket and his hood up. “Sorry to make you come all this way in the cold.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Armin extended the book towards him. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Jean said. He ran cold-reddened fingers over the cover, examining it. “Uh, can I ask you a question?”

Armin, who had been fully prepared to immediately turn and leave, didn’t quite know how to answer. “Um--yeah. Sure.”

“Why did you bring a copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ to college with you? No offense, but I feel like it’s… kind of a strange pick”

“Oh,” said Armin, laughing a little. “Yeah, it’s my favorite book.”

Jean thumbed through the pages. “Why’s that?”

“Oh,” said Armin again. He hadn’t expected Jean to be so interested. “Uh, well, I just really like the characters and the themes. It’s all about, like, looking past first impressions and getting over personal pride.” He shrugged. “And also the main character tells more than one man to his face that she would never marry him, so that’s pretty cool.”

Jean snorted. “I feel like I might like this book.”

“I hope you do,” Armin said, and he meant it.

For a moment, Jean smiled at him, and for a moment, Armin could almost forget his own first impression of him.

“I’ll let you know my thoughts,” Jean said. “If you want to hear them?”

“Sure,” Armin found himself saying.

“Great.” Another smile. “Thanks again. You’re a real lifesaver.”

“No problem.”

Jean nodded and walked back into the building, leaving Armin to wonder about what he had just agreed to and why he had done it.

**Jean Kirschtein:**

[11:02 pm] **okay so i started reading pride and prejudice**

[11:02 pm] **did mr. darcy really just say that elizabeth wasn’t pretty enough for him to dance with**

[11:08 pm] _Yep_

[11:11 pm] **holy shit**

[11:12 pm] **is that why this is your favorite book? because darcy’s a savage???**

[11:18 pm] _Yeah, partly_

[11:19 pm] _And also the social commentary_

[11:23 pm] **who cares about that darcy just called a girl ugly when she was sitting RIGHT THERE**

[11:23 pm] **i see what you mean now about liking the characters they’re very charming**

[11:26 pm] _Right???_

[11:27 pm] _I’m so glad you see how good this book is_

[11:28 pm] _No one else I know appreciates it_

[11:31 pm] **that’s a crime and i’m glad i can fill that hole in your life**

[11:31 pm] **have to stop texting now so i can continue to get invested in the lives of these regency era fictional people brb**

October 19 

**Jean Kirschtein:**

[11:23 am] **darcy kind of sucks**

[11:23 am] **sorry i guess i don’t know if he’s like your favorite character or something**

[11:23 am] **but he’s SO pretentious oh my god**

[11:31 am] _No you’re right and you should say it_

[11:33 am] **thank you**

[11:35 am] **is he?**

[11:39 am] _Uh_

[11:40 am] _Is he what?_

[11:42 am] **is he your favorite character**

[11:44 am] _Oh_

[11:44 am] _Uh probably? I like most of them but Darcy’s probably my favorite_

[11:45 am] **oh shoot**

[11:46 am] **i really did just insult your favorite character to your face right then**

[11:46 am] _No it’s okay_

[11:46 am] _Like I said you’re right_

[11:47 am] _He’s an asshole_

[11:47 am] **HA**

[11:47 am] **okay good**

[11:48 am] **i’m glad i didn’t offend you**

**\---**

[3:37 pm] **WHO THE FUCK IS MR COLLINS**

[3:37 pm] **i’m reading the scene where he proposes to elizabeth btw**

[3:37 pm] **but like**

[3:37 pm] **first of all this dude talks for a FULL page about his reasons for wanting to marry her**

[3:37 pm] **(which dont even have anything to do with HER but anyways)**

[3:38 pm] **and then when she says no**

[3:38 pm] **he tells her that she actually means yes? and that she’s just trying to be coy???**

[3:38 pm] **THIS IS INSANE**

[3:40 pm] _I’m SO glad you got there holy shit_

[3:40 pm] _That scene made me so angry when I first read it_

[3:42 pm] **I GET IT**

[3:42 pm] **I MYSELF AM ANGRY RIGHT NOW**

[3:47 pm] **what the FUCK he just straight up told her that she’s not going to get another proposal**

[3:47 pm] **this dude sucks**

[3:52 pm] _I feel like I should tell you I’m laughing so hard right now_

[3:52 pm] _You’re absolutely right but your reaction is just the best_

[3:56 pm] **jesus fuck**

[3:56 pm] **i’d love to keep chatting about this but i need to know what happens next**

[3:58 pm] _No please go ahead_

[3:58 pm] _I’m loving your commentary so far_

**\---**

[9:58 pm] **CHARLOTTE’S MARRYING MR COLLINS??**

[9:59 pm] **okay alright i absolutely understand why this is your favorite book now**

[9:59 pm] **this is SO good**

[10:03 pm] _Oh Jean_

[10:03 pm] _You haven’t even seen the best of it_

[10:03 pm] **WHAT**

[10:03 pm] **you’re kidding**

[10:03 pm] **i can’t believe it gets better than this**

[10:04 pm] _Oh of course it does_

[10:04 pm] **well you can bet I’m going to text you about it**

[10:04 pm] _Please do_

October 21 

Eren was in class, but hanging out in his room was sometimes nicer than hanging out in Armin’s own. 

There was something good about the change in location, about the peace of being somewhere different yet comfortable. Plus, Eren’s roommate Connie was usually out, so Armin could sit in peace and study or just relax while he waited on his best friend to return. This particular afternoon, he was trying to do his calc homework--or, more accurately, trying to stay focused on his calc homework and not get distracted by the beautiful fall weather outside or the notifications on his phone or, occasionally, his own thoughts. 

Armin forced his mind to center around taking the derivative of a polynomial, but paused as the faint, slow strums of a guitar teased his hearing. Somewhere, in another room, someone was playing. Armin had a feeling he knew who it was.

“ _All I am… is a man…_ ” 

A voice had joined the guitar now, low and a little husky. Armin _definitely_ knew who it was--and better yet, he knew which room it was coming from. 206, he remembered. His feet took him in that direction before his mind had consciously made that decision.

“ _Touch my neck, and I’ll touch yours…_ ”

The music was closer now--the next room down. He hesitated before looking in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt the perfect moment that had been created. He had no idea if anyone else was in that room, or if it was just him, strumming a six-string and playing for whoever happened to listen…

Armin closed his eyes and leaned back against the doorframe as the singer started on the chorus.

“ _Cause it’s too cold, whoa, for you here and now…_ ”

His voice was deep, resonant, and a little melancholy, with just a hint of a rasp to it. Armin was familiar with the song, of course, but it sounded different coming from _him_. It was raw. Authentic. Intimate, somehow. Real. 

As many times as Armin had heard him sing, this time seemed different. There was no party, no crowds, no one to impress. He wasn’t drunk--at least, he didn’t sound like it. His playing and singing were confident and effortless. And his voice was comforting in a way that Armin didn’t fully understand.

As the chorus ended, Armin gathered up all of his courage and turned to enter the dorm room.

There, sitting on the bed, an acoustic guitar perched over his lap, was Jean Kirschtein. His head was tilted down and his face was obscured, but Armin could see his tawny hair, straight and shaggy with that undercut that had been driving him crazy for weeks now.

“Uh, hey,” Armin said, then immediately cringed at how lame it had sounded. Jean had clearly been in the moment, just playing his guitar and enjoying a moment alone, and Armin had interrupted it with “ _Uh, hey_ ”?

Jean didn’t seem to mind, though. His lips curved into a smile as he looked up and registered Armin standing there. “Hey.”

“I liked your playing,” Armin blurted.

“Thanks.” Jean kept on smiling. Armin couldn’t help but notice that his smile was kind of dazzling. “How long were you listening?”

“Oh, uh, just from the beginning of Sweater Weather.”

Jean nodded. “Do you… Do you like that song?”

He asked it as though it held some kind of weight, like there was some kind of hidden meaning to the question. Armin didn’t know what he was trying to get at. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Oh,” said Jean, and he seemed almost disappointed. “Yeah, that’s cool.”

“Cool,” said Armin, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say. “I’ll, uh, leave you to it.”

“You could stay and listen for a while,” Jean offered. “If you want.”

“No,” Armin said quickly. “I have… calc.”

It was the truth, but even to Armin’s own ears it sounded like a lame excuse to leave.

“Oh. Alright.”

“Yep.” Armin backed out of the room. “Well. See you.”

He turned and briskly walked away before Jean could process just how awkward that exchange had been. “See you”? _Really_? 

It felt strange talking to him now that they had started texting. Armin didn’t know how to reconcile the two Jeans he had seen. There was the rude, self-centered prick at the party, who had insulted him in every possible way--and then there was the soft guitar-player who liked the same book as Armin and whose texts made him laugh. How could these two people be the same person? How could two impressions be so vastly different?

And most importantly, what in the world had Jean been trying to get at during that conversation?

**Jean Kirschtein**

[8:49 pm] **ELIZABETH JUST REJECTED DARCY’S PROPOSAL**

[8:49 pm] **SHE SHUT THAT SHIT DOWN**

[8:50 pm] **i did not expect to be as into this book as i am**

[8:54 pm] _Oh wow you’ve read a lot_

[9:06 pm] **yeah i’m actually super into this**

[9:07 pm] **i don’t even have to have this much done for my class yet**

[9:07 pm] **i’m just genuinely having a good time**

[9:10 pm] _I’m glad you’re enjoying it_

[9:11 pm] _But yes Elizabeth truly takes no shit_

[9:15 pm] **SHE DOES NOT**

[9:17 pm] **“you were the last man in the world whom i could ever be prevailed upon to marry” GET EM**

[9:18 pm] **also i lied i definitely do care about the social commentary**

[9:18 pm] **everything about this book is phenomenal**

[9:20 pm] _I’m so glad you think so_

October 23 

“Hey, Armin.”

Armin glanced up, halfway through dropping his laptop into his bag after his mystery fiction class. Marco was standing behind him, looking a little awkward.

“Jean wanted me to tell you that he’s bringing his guitar to the party at Dauper tonight. He says you should come by.”

“Oh,” Armin said. “Uh, yeah, I might. Thanks.”

“He seemed… like he really wants you to be there?” Marco was looking at Armin as though this was supposed to mean something to him. “I think he wants to talk to you about something.”

Armin, for the second time in a week, had no idea what Jean was getting at. “Um. Okay. Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Great.” Marco shifted his bag to his other shoulder. “Sorry about this.”

“No, it’s alright. Thanks for letting me know.”

He and Marco parted ways, but Armin’s mind was buzzing. What could Jean possibly want to talk about? They had been texting pretty consistently for the past several days, but they hadn’t spoken in person at all since the Sweater Weather incident. Could Jean want to talk about _Pride and Prejudice_? But that didn’t make sense; if he wanted to do that, he could easily have texted. As far as Armin knew, they didn’t have anything else in common. No classes, no extracurriculars… They both knew Marco, and technically Eren, but Armin doubted that Jean would want to talk about either of them so urgently. 

Marco said it had seemed like Jean had really wanted him to be there. That was what bugged Armin the most. Jean was almost certainly bringing Sexy Susan to the party. Did he want Armin to come listen to him play? That wasn’t unreasonable, Armin supposed; after all, they were basically friends at this point. But they couldn’t talk while Jean was playing. 

Curiosity ate away at Armin until he met Eren and Mikasa at the doors of Dauper Hall. If you’ve seen one college dorm party, Armin believed, you’ve seen them all; the same stench of cheap beer, the same sweaty crowding of people, and in this case, the same sound and sight of Jean, playing Sexy Susan in the entry lounge. 

“He never learns.” Eren shot a look towards Jean that bordered between sympathetic and annoyed. “Come on, Armin, let’s go find where they’re keeping the food.”

“Actually,” Armin said, “I think I’m going to stay and listen for a while.”

Mikasa stared at him, her jaw hanging. “Are you concussed?”

“I don’t… think so?”

“You really want to listen to _Jean Kirschtein_?” The disdain was evident on Eren’s face. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know. Yeah.” Armin glanced back at the guitar player. “We’ve been talking a lot more recently. He’s not that bad.”

“Do you not remember when he called you Coconut Head?”

“I… I do.” 

“And when he flirted with Mikasa?”

“Not even directly,” she chimed in. “Like a coward.”

“Guys, I just want to listen for a few minutes. Parties aren’t really my scene, and I think his playing is almost…” Armin tried to search for the right word. “Endearing?”

“You _are_ concussed,” mused Mikasa.

“Fine, dude.” Eren held his hands up in a “this situation is out of my control” kind of pose. “Do whatever you want to do. Come find us later?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Armin. “I’ll catch up with you guys.”

Sharing confused, slightly concerned glances, they walked away and left him to Jean.

Armin caught him just at the beginning of his next song. He heard the first lines as he approached: “ _Closing time, open all the doors and let you out into the world…_ ”

He couldn’t stop from smiling a little bit as he sat down. Jean was nice to listen to, sure, but for these dorm performances, he stuck pretty strictly to the kind of songs one might expect a college dorm party guitar player to sing. He wondered if Jean was even aware he was embodying the stereotype. It was hard to tell with him.

Despite the stereotypical choice in song, people seemed to enjoy--or at least be neutral towards--his playing. At worst, it was some background noise to a raging party. At best--in Armin’s case, he realized--it was the main event of the party itself. Listening to Jean play was a lot more fun for Armin than sitting on old couches or coffee tables and watching other people get drunk. As silly as it was for Jean to bring a guitar named Sexy Susan to every party, it had sort of accidentally become the highlight of Armin’s night. 

As he finished singing about how new beginnings come from some other beginning’s end, most of the crowd dissipated, leaving a clear line of sight between Jean and Armin. The guitar player smiled when he saw him, standing up and thanking whoever remained for listening.

“Hey,” he said as he approached Armin, Sexy Susan in hand. “You came.”

“I did. I heard you wanted me to.”

“I did,” he replied, smiling. “I’m glad Marco told you.”

“He also said something about you wanting to talk?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Do we mind if we find somewhere a little quieter?” 

Armin nodded, and Jean took the lead--down a hall of rooms, and down _another_ hall of rooms, back into a lounge far enough of a walk that there were guaranteed to be no partygoers coming by. Armin mentally marked the location for future use. 

Jean plopped down onto one of the couches, setting down Sexy Susan beside him, and drew in a deep breath. Armin took a seat across from him, waiting for him to start the conversation.

“Hey, so, I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot.”

Armin squinted at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… That night at the party in Ragako. When, I, uh, called out to you for a request?”

“Holy shit,” whispered Armin. “You _do_ remember.”

“Yeah.” Jean scratched the back of his neck, which was flushing a deep scarlet. “Well. You know. Marco kept talking about this cool guy in his Lit class, and the more he talked about you, the more I realized I wanted to get to know you, and then once I saw you in person and put the pieces together…” He sighed. “I guess I thought it would be better for both of us if I pretended it just… didn’t happen?”

“Holy shit,” Armin said again. 

“In my defense, I was _mad_ drunk. Which, uh, doesn’t really excuse it, but--”

“Do you even remember what you said?”

“I… I think I called you Coconut Head?”

“And 90s Ellen.”

“Oh, uh--”

“And Blond Dora.”

“Okay, that one’s almost funny.”

“You tried to hit on Mikasa _through me_.”

Jean visibly cringed. “...Yeah, I don’t have any excuse for that one. That was shitty.”

“It was _all_ shitty, Jean.”

“Yeah.” His whole neck was red now. He couldn’t meet Armin’s eyes. “Yeah, it was. I’m really sorry about it.”

Armin leaned back in his chair. “You know,” he said, “you haven’t even owned up to the worst part of it yet.”

He looked over until Jean sheepishly met his gaze.

“You are responsible for the _worst_ performance of Wonderwall that I’ve ever heard.”

They both couldn’t stop from busting out laughing. Armin was glad to see a smile back on Jean’s face. The guilty expression he had been wearing just didn’t suit him.

“Well, anyways,” he said, pulling his guitar onto his lap, “I thought I’d do something to try to make it up to you. Maybe at least a little bit.”

“Uh, okay?”

“I want to give you a private concert,” he said, and his cheeks colored slightly. “Anything you want. I’m taking requests, one night only.”

“This is ridiculous,” Armin said, smiling. “You think one song is going to make up for your heinous actions that night?”

Jean looked down sheepishly, seemingly unsure what to say.

“You’re right,” Armin said, crossing his legs at the ankles. “All is forgiven if you play Hey There Delilah.”

“Hey There Delilah?” Jean seemed to brighten a bit. “A fine choice.”

“I have good taste.”

“I can tell.” Jean searched for the chords on his phone for a second before laying the device on his knee. “Alright. Here we go.” His fingers picked at the first chords like he’d been prepared for this moment for a long time, and his voice came soft and sure: “ _Hey there Delilah, what’s it like in New York City?_ ”

Jean’s private concerts were a lot different from his public ones, as Armin didn’t fail to notice. For one, they were less like _performances._ He wasn’t playing to woo or impress. Although he was undeniably talented in both settings, there was something more honest about him without a crowd. Armin had been joking when he said all would be forgiven after a private concert, but seeing this side of Jean again proved to him that the version of him at the party at Ragako hadn’t been his most genuine self. As silly as it was to admit to himself, this little performance really was convincing Armin to change his opinion of him. 

The song was simple--Armin had chosen it mostly just because it was the first guitar song he could think of--and it was over quickly. Jean looked up as he strummed the last chord, his brows together. “Well?”

“Yeah,” rasped Armin, caught off-guard by the sincerity in Jean’s expression. “Forgiven.”

He smiled, big and genuine. “Fantastic. Glad we’re friends now.”

“Whoa, hey, I didn’t say that.”

“Too late. Just made it happen.”

“I--”

“Nope.” Jean had picked up his guitar and was now standing. “Friends. Can’t do anything about it.”

“Fine,” said Armin. “Do friends get private concerts?”

“Depends,” said Jean. “Are you going to continue giving me requests?”

“Nope. One time thing.”

“What? Why not?”

“I can’t keep enabling you.” Armin shrugged. “Besides, you’re the performer. You have to come up with the setlist.”

“Ridiculous,” said Jean. “No private concerts until you request something.”

“Fine. No private concerts.”

“Okay. Alright. Counterpoint.” Jean moved to the door and leaned against its frame. “I’ll do a ton of private concerts for you _until_ I run out of songs and you have to request something.”

Armin smiled. “Promise?”

“Promise. As long as you admit we’re friends.”

“Fine. Deal. We’re friends”

“Great,” said Jean. “Prepare to have your socks knocked off.”

He was out the door before he could hear Armin’s delighted laugh.

October 24 

**Jean Kirschtein:**

[9:49 am] **Link: Viva La Vida by Coldplay**

[9:49 am] **hey do you know this song**

[10:58 am] _Uh yeah? Why_

[11:00 am] **should i learn it for the next party**

[11:23 am] _Dude_

[11:23 am] _You could do so much better than Coldplay_

[11:26 am] **excuse you? coldplay slaps**

[11:27 am] _Coldplay slapped like fifteen years ago_

[11:27 am] **you’re just mad that chris martin still sounds so good after all these years**

[11:27 am] _First of all I hate that you know the lead singer’s name_

[11:28 am] _And second ?? No I am not???_

[11:28 am] **fine**

[11:28 am] **if you’re so against coldplay then give me a different song**

[11:29 am] _No_

[11:29 am] _I refuse to enable you_

[11:29 am] **if you don’t give me a request then im going to sing coldplay**

[11:29 am] _Please no_

[11:30 am] _At least do a better song_

[11:30 am] **what’s better than viva la vida**

[11:31 am] _I don’t know_

[11:31 am] _The Scientist?_

[11:32 am] **you like the scientist and you don’t like viva la vida???**

[11:32 am] **you’re a strange one, armin arlert**

[11:33 am] _It’s just a good song_

[11:33 am] _Don’t attack me like this_

[11:33 am] **hey no attacking here**

[11:34 am] **just surprised**

[11:34 am] **so…… does this count as you giving me a song request??**

[11:35 am] _No_

[11:35 am] _This counts as me saving you from yourself_

**\---**

[10:34 pm] **I FINISHED PRIDE AND PREJUDICE**

[10:34 pm] _Holy shit that was fast_

[10:34 pm] **yeah sorry for not texting about the last chunk of it, i got too invested haha**

[10:35 pm] **you were right**

[10:35 pm] **it’s a great book**

[10:37 pm] **i feel like i’ve learned so much about you now that i’ve finished it**

[10:40 pm] _Really?_

[10:41 pm] **well yeah**

[10:42 pm] **i don’t know i feel like someone’s favorite book says a lot about them**

[10:45 pm] _You have to tell me yours now_

[10:45 pm] _Equivalent exchange_

[10:46 pm] **no that’s fair**

[10:47 pm] **it’s actually the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde**

[10:49 pm] _Oh shit_

[10:49 pmI _Did not expect that from you_

[10:50 pm] **yeah i had to read it in high school and it ended up just really sticking with me**

[10:51 pm] _I actually haven’t read it_

[10:52 pm] **WHAT**

[10:52 pm] **you’re kidding its so good**

[10:53 pm] _I never had to in high school_

[10:53 pm] _Sorry_

[10:54 pm] **i’m not mad**

[10:54 pm] **just… disappointed**

[10:55 pm] _Oh my god you’re ridiculous_

[10:56 pm] **someday i’m gonna make you read MY favorite book**

[10:56 pm] **equivalent exchange**

[10:56 pm] _Okay I’ll do it_

[10:57 pm] **love to hear it**

[10:58 pm] **i can’t lie tho…..** **pride and prejudice might be a new contender for my favorite**

[10:59 pm] _Hey you can’t just steal my favorite book!!_

[10:59 pm] _That’s cheating_

[10:59 pm] **i can do whatever i want arlert**

[10:59 pm] **you just have to deal with it**

[11:00 pm] _And why is that?_

[11:00 pm] **because we’re friends now**

[11:00 pm] **:)**

[11:01 pm] _I regret my actions_

[11:01 pm] **nope you said it can’t take it back**

[11:01 pm] **i’m your friend now sorry it’s the rules**

[11:01 pm] _You’re ridiculous_

[11:02 pm] **you love it**

October 26 

Eren wasn’t in his dorm.

Normally this wouldn’t have been an issue--Eren left his door unlocked pretty exclusively for the purpose of letting Armin or Mikasa go in without him, and Armin felt comfortable enough to do so--but the issue was that Armin really needed a friend right now. With Eren AWOL and Mikasa in class, his options were shortening. 

He leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath. He’d sprinted all the way to Trost Hall from his fiction class, hoping he’d be able to talk to Eren before his brain spun the situation out of proportion. Unfortunately, it was steadily becoming too late. Without someone to talk him through the rational side of things, the emotional part of his brain was going haywire. 

He glanced down the hallway, a certain kind of heat over his eyes. Maybe there was one more person who could help him… If he was willing. If he was even in his room.

Armin rapped on the door to 206 before he could talk himself out of it.

One second passed… three seconds… Armin was about ready to turn and abandon the idea altogether when the door finally opened. Jean looked at him, puzzled. “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” Armin said, as calm as he could muster.

“Marco isn’t here. I think he’s in class--”

“I know.” Armin forced in a shaky breath. “I just came from the same class. I, uh… I just really need to talk to someone right now. If that’s alright.”

Jean blinked at him for a moment, taking in the sight of him--flushed pink from the sprint and the effort of holding back tears, shaking, drawn in on himself--and opened the door wider. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, of course.”

Armin nodded his thanks, slipping past him and into the room. It wasn’t the first time he’d been inside--it wasn’t even the first time he’d been alone with Jean in the room--but it felt uncomfortable under the circumstances. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, where he should sit, what he should do with his hands. He crossed his arms and remained standing. 

Jean crossed to his bed and took a seat. “What’s wrong?”

Armin shouldn’t have done this. He should have just locked himself in a bathroom stall and cried this out and waited until Eren got back, and then Eren would probably laugh at him a little and tell him it didn’t really matter, and he’d of course be right--because it _didn’t_ matter, and it was stupid for Armin to be so worked out over it.

“Hey.” Jean leaned into Armin’s line of sight and patted the bed beside him. “Come on. Sit down.”

Out of energy to argue, Armin obliged. He curled his hands in his lap like a child and tried to come up with some kind of justification as to why he had suddenly shown up at Jean’s door on the verge of a panic attack.

“My fiction professor,” he started. “I mean--we had a paper due last week. And I’m always so careful about turning things on time, and about getting them done early, and it’s _never_ been an issue before--” He sucked in another breath. “I uploaded it but I didn’t hit submit. And it says right there in the syllabus that no late work is accepted--even though it _wasn’t_ late, I’m just an idiot--”

“You’re not an idiot.”

“--and when I went to talk to the professor about it after class, she told me that she can’t give me any credit on the assignment, so now I have a zero for the paper, but it’s worth fifteen percent of our final grade, and--” Armin’s voice broke. He swiped at the rolling tears on his cheeks. “Jesus, this is embarrassing. I just don’t know what to do.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Armin saw Jean lift his hand, hesitated, then set it back down on the mattress. “I’m so sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “That doesn’t sound fair.”

Armin shrugged one shoulder. “It’s in the syllabus. The rules are clear.”

“But you did the assignment! You wrote the whole paper.” Jean huffed. “It’s stupid that she won’t even give you partial credit for it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. If I were you, I’d email her and argue my case.”

Armin shrunk immediately. “That’s… I can’t do that.”

“What? Why not?”

He was already shaking his head. “Nope. Nope. She already told me she isn’t giving me credit--”

“Armin. You _wrote the paper_. You made one very tiny mistake for the first time ever. That’s not worth fifteen percent of your grade.”

“But… But…” Armin huffed and lay his head in his hands. “I don’t do confrontation,” he said quietly.

“But this is important--”

“Jean,” he interrupted. “Look, I’m just… I’m not brave.”

Jean knit his brow. “What?”

“I’m not brave,” Armin repeated. “Eren is brave--really brave. And so is Mikasa. I’m just not.”

“I don’t think that.”

“Okay. That doesn’t make it untrue.” Armin stared at the space between him and Jean. “I wish I were, though. I wish I could…”

He trailed off, biting his lip to keep from crying.

Jean huffed. “Alright, look. If it makes you feel any better, I… I’m not brave either.”

“You… huh?”

“Please don’t make me say it again. I don’t like to admit it.”

“Jean,” Armin said, choosing his words carefully, “I don’t want to invalidate your feelings, but you play your guitar at _every_ college dorm party. That does take guts.”

“No, it takes _vanity_. I’m not brave. I’m just kind of… a narcissist.”

Armin tried on a smile. “If this is your way of making me feel better, you’re doing a terrible job.”

“No, I just mean…” Jean buried his face in his arm. When he spoke, his voice was small and muffled. “I’m bad at feelings stuff.”

“Feelings stuff?”

“Like…” Jean made a groaning noise. “Just, emotions. I don’t know. I just told you I’m bad at this.”

Armin gazed over him, at his curled-up, surprisingly vulnerable position. He never would have guessed that Jean would be bad at emotional issues--or that he would admit it like this, to make Armin feel better.

“That being said,” said Jean, lifting his head. His face was bright red. “That being said, I do think it’s important. And especially in this situation, when it’s literally affecting your grade… I think it’s worth a shot.”

Armin, still trying to process Jean sudden openness, furrowed his brow. “But… But what if--”

“Armin, what’s the worst that can happen? What can she do? She can’t take any more points off if you already have a zero. If she says no, you’re exactly where you are now.”

“She… She might be upset, though.” Armin winced at how childish he sounded. “I just want my professors to like me.”

“I’m sure she wants you to get a good grade.” Jean bumped Armin’s knee with his own--maybe a mistake, but surprisingly comforting. “It’s worth a shot.”

Armin hated to admit it, but he was right. He really didn’t have anything to lose by asking again--maybe it would be a little awkward if she said no, but the more Jean insisted that it was worth trying, the more Armin believed him. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. I think I’ll ask her.”

Jean smiled. “Alright. I’m glad.” He paused, quirking a brow. “Was there… a reason you came to me for this?”

“Oh,” said Armin. “Uh, I was originally going to talk to Eren, but he wasn’t home.”

“Ah.” If Armin didn’t know better, he would say Jean sounded almost disappointed. 

“Thank you, though,” he rushed. “I mean… You know. For listening. And for giving me such good advice. And for… opening up like you did.”

“Uh,” said Jean, going a little red. “Yeah. Of course.”

They sat in silence after that. Armin wasn’t sure quite what to say. He hoped he hadn’t offended Jean by saying that he had originally come to see Eren, or made him uncomfortable by thanking him for his vulnerability. He was genuinely grateful for--and a little bit surprised by--his help.

“Alright,” said Jean, leaning over the far end of the bed. “I think it’s time to hold up my end of a bargain.”

He came up holding an acoustic guitar.

Armin couldn’t help but laugh, though there were still lingering tear tracks over his face. “You aren’t serious.”

“Of course I am.” Jean strummed Sexy Susan, turning towards Armin and sitting cross-legged. “We agreed that, since we’re friends now, I would give you private concerts until I ran out of songs to play. This is the first in a long line, Arlert.”

He snorted. “Okay. Fine.” He glanced around the bed. “What do I--I mean, where should I sit?”

“Uh--I mean, you’re fine there. Or you could, like, lie down?”

“Lie down?”

“Yeah. You know, like I’m serenading you.”

Armin laughed out loud. He hadn’t expected it, but Jean sure did know how to turn his spirits. “Like you’re _serenading_ me.”

“Uh. Yes. But you don’t have to--”

“Oh no,” said Armin, adjusting his position as he spoke, “I am.”

He laid his head on Jean’s pillow--which smelled just like him--and closed his eyes. 

“You look like you’re asleep.”

“I’m not.”

“If you fall asleep during this, the deal’s off.”

Armin hummed and kept his eyes closed.

“Armin. Seriously.”

“I know.” He peeked an eye open. “I’ll stay awake.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.” Armin heard Jean strum again. “Please enjoy this little tune originally released by Radiohead.”

Armin gave a giggly groan as Jean started to play. “ _When you were here before, couldn’t look you in the eye_ …”

As far as Radiohead songs went, it was Armin’s favorite, and it suited Jean’s voice well. It gave him plenty of thus-rare opportunities to show off his voice on longer notes, and although Armin didn’t know anything technical about singing, even he could tell that Jean knew what he was doing. His voice stayed even and throughout, growing a little louder or softer at some points--a small detail, but one Armin noticed and greatly appreciated--and it held a kind of raw emotion that Armin wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to hearing from Jean. As good as Jean’s singing was at parties, nothing would compare to the performances like these. Armin found himself looking forward to every other private concert he would have the privilege of hearing. 

“Are you asleep?” asked Jean upon finishing the song.

“Yes,” Armin replied. He felt Jean swat his knee.

“What did you think?”

Armin opened his eyes and sat up, feeling strangely refreshed. “It was good. Really good.”

Jean smiled at him. “Even though it was _Radiohead_?”

“Yes. Even though it was Radiohead.”

He chuckled a little. “I’m glad you thought so,” he said, leaning Sexy Susan against the footboard of the bed. “You have quite a few more of those to look forward to.”

“Oh,” said Armin, “I know. And I will.”

October 28 

**Jean Kirschtein:**

[3:23 pm] _Hey I wanted to let you know I talked to my fiction professor again and she said she’d give me full credit on the paper!!_

[3:27 pm] **WHAT**

[3:27 pm] **armin you’re kidding that’s such good news**

[3:27 pm] **congrats dude that’s huge**

[3:29 pm] _It’s all thanks to you_

[3:29 pm] **what no of course it isn’t**

[3:30 pm] _It is!!_

[3:30 pm] _You were the one who inspired me to talk to her in the first place_

[3:31 pm] _If you hadn’t given me such good advice this wouldn’t have happened_

[3:33 pm] **okay well i genuinely think that you did all of this yourself**

[3:33 pm] **but i’ve never been one to turn down a compliment**

[3:33 pm] **so thank you**

[3:34 pm] _Haha yeah of course_

[3:35 pm] _And thank you for being there for me_

[3:35 pm] _I really needed it_

[3:36 pm] **armin you gotta stop**

[3:36 pm] **you’re blowing my ego way out of proportion**

[3:38 pm] _Well speaking of blowing your ego out of proportion…_

[3:38 pm] _I’m kind of itching for my next concert_

[3:41 pm] **EGO IS BEING BLOWN WAY OUT OF PROPORTION**

[3:41 pm] **but your wish is my command**

[3:42 pm] **unless….. you want to request something? ;)**

[3:43 pm] _Absolutely Not_

[3:43 pm] _I’m taking advantage of this deal for as long as I can_

[3:44 pm] **entirely fair of you and exactly what I was do if I was in your shoes**

[3:44 pm] **you free tomorrow?**

[3:45 pm] _Oh my_

[3:45 pm] _So soon?_

[3:46 pm] **i want this just as bad as you do, arlert**

[3:47 pm] _Alright_

[3:47 pm] _Tomorrow night then_

[3:48 pm] _Your place_

[3:49 pm] **uh okay i love this plan except**

[3:49 pm] **marco will be in the room tomorrow night**

[3:49 pm] **and it would be a little embarrassing to do this in front of him**

[3:50 pm] _Okay fine_

[3:50 pm] _MY place then_

[3:50 pm] **works for me**

[3:52 pm] _Any chance you’ll tell me what song?_

[3:52 pm] **oh of course not**

[3:52 pm] **that ruins the whole point**

[3:54 pm] _Yeah that’s about what I expected_

[3:55 pm] **be assured though**

[3:55 pm] **it’s gonna blow your mind**

[3:56 pm] **be prepared to scrape your brain matter off the walls**

[3:56 pm] _Gross_

[3:56 pm] _Thanks for the warning_

October 29 

“I assume you’re still holding out on requests?”

Jean adjusted one of Sexy Susan’s tuning keys and shot Armin a teasing glance. 

“Of course,” Armin replied. Truthfully, he’d been afraid Jean wouldn’t follow through with it. The tone of their texts had been joking, but Armin genuinely really enjoyed listening to Jean play. He was relieved, then, when Jean had shown up at his dorm room, guitar in hand. He’d secretly been very much looking forward to their agreed concert.

Jean sighed. “I thought you might say that. Luckily,” he said, giving Sexy Susan a little strum, “I prepared a song ahead of time.”

“How prudent of you.” Armin adjusted his position so he could lay his head against his pillow. 

Jean looked over at him. “I’m still afraid you’re going to fall asleep when you do that.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’d know if I fell asleep.”

“How?”

“I snore.”

He heard Jean snort. “Great. So if I hear snoring…”

“I don’t know. Just yell at me or something.”

“Sure,” Jean said. “I’ll yell at you.”

Armin snuggled deeper into the pillow. “Great. Thanks.”

He could practically hear the roll of Jean’s eyes. “You ready?”

“Yep.”

“Fantastic. Here’s Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls.”

It was one of those songs that _everyone_ knew, even if you didn’t know you knew it. Armin hadn’t recognized the song by its title, but placed it as soon as Jean got to the chorus: “ _And I don’t want the world to see me, cause I don’t think that they’d understand…_ ”

Iris was a classic, and Jean did it justice. His voice carried a rasp and a tone that fit the song well. Armin could _hear_ Jean get lost in it, in the emotions the song brought, and his vulnerability invited Armin to feel them, too. It was a feeling everyone could relate to, he thought; wanting a good moment to last, wanting to be known by another person. It struck Armin, very suddenly as though the thought had snuck up on him, that he wanted _this_ moment to last. He wanted to be known by _this_ other person.

He sat upright as Jean sang the last line of the song. “ _I just want you to know who I am._ ”

Armin chewed his lower lip, holding Jean’s gaze as he searched for his next words. “Jean,” he said finally, “why did you choose that song?”

Jean listed his head and moved Sexy Susan back down to the floor. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“No reason.”

There was actually quite a big reason, but Armin wasn’t sure how to articulate it.

“Did you like it?” Jean asked. “I mean, was it… Was it good?”

“Yeah,” said Armin. “Yeah, it was.”

“Are you sure?” There was a smile on Jean’s face, but his eyes held hesitation. “You seem… a little out of it.”

“No. Yes. Sorry.” Armin shook his head as though to erase his thoughts, like an Etch-A-Sketch. “Just thinking about something.”

Jean lounged back and crossed his extended legs at the ankles. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I’d tell you if I knew them.”

“You don’t know your own thoughts?”

Jean’s smile was light and teasing. Something about it made Armin’s heart skip a beat. 

“I guess,” he said cautiously, “I’m thinking about you.”

Jean lowered his brow. “About me?”

“Yeah.”

“What about me?”

“Well,” Armin said. “Like… Where did you learn to play the guitar?”

“I taught myself,” Jean said. “Mostly from YouTube and the internet and stuff.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen.” He gestured down at his guitar. “Sexy Susan was actually the first guitar I ever bought.”

Armin laughed a little. “She’s really stuck by you, huh?”

“Exactly.” Jean was still smiling that same lopsided, easy smile. “I’m glad you get it.”

“And when you started learning guitar,” Armin continued, “did you think you’d eventually be playing college dorm parties?”

“Actually,” said Jean, laughing, “I did a little bit. I knew that I wanted to perform for people, but I didn’t want to write original music. So I guess I was like… destined to do covers at parties.”

“It was your calling,” Armin teased. 

“My fate, if you will.”

Armin hummed. “I’m glad. I think it takes a lot of courage to do something like that.”

Jean knit his brows. “We’ve talked about this, remember? It’s all ego.”

“You say that, but I don’t think it’s true.” Armin shrugged. “I think you have a lot of talent, and I think you’re really brave for performing every week.”

“Oh,” said Jean quietly. “Um. Thank you.”

He looked down at Sexy Susan. Armin traced over his form, watching as he idly plucked guitar strings. He had meant what he said, even though he hadn’t even really considered it until he was saying it out loud. He _did_ think Jean was talented. He _did_ think it took courage for him to play in public. Armin was sure it was something he could never do, but for Jean, it was effortless. There was no undeserved ego or vanity here. Despite Armin’s first impression of him--a first impression he was embarrassed to think about now--Jean was a good musician. And, as Armin now realized, he was a good friend.

When had this happened? When had Undercut become Jean Kirschtein? When had Narcissist Guitarist become a friend? When had The Wonderwall Kid become one of Armin’s favorite people? And mostly importantly, when did Jean get the ability to make Armin’s heart beat this fast?

“Jean,” Armin said, “can I try something brave?”

He looked up. “Uh, yeah. Of course.”

Before he could process what he was doing--before he could really think about the consequences of his next action--before he could stop himself--Armin leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jean’s.

Jean froze, going entirely stiff, and Armin was suddenly very afraid he’d done something terribly wrong. He pulled back. “I, uh, I didn’t mean--”

And then one of Jean’s hands was cupped around his cheek, and the other one was wrapped around his waist, and he was pulling Armin closer and his lips were against Armin’s again and Armin had more pressing things to focus on. 

He moved closer until he and Jean were chest-to-chest and planted both hands on his shoulders. Jean moved to accommodate him, never once breaking contact as he expertly moved his legs so he was centered in front of Armin. 

Jean broke away first this time, sliding both hands around Armin’s middle and laying him gently back against the mattress. His eyes flitted between Armin’s own. “Are you… I mean, is this…”

Armin ran a thumb along Jean’s jaw, feeling its strong curve. “It’s okay.”

Jean’s lips twitched as his mouth met Armin’s once more.

If you had told Armin two weeks ago that he would be making out with a pompous, guitar-playing bastard who had once called him 90s Ellen, he probably would have fainted.

But there he was--and there was Jean, his surprisingly buff arms wrapped around Armin’s waist, his golden-brown hair tangled between Armin’s fingers, his soft lips pressed against Armin’s own. 

Jean kissed sweet and slow. Occasionally he drifted to Armin’s cheeks, or nose, or neck, or just under his jawline--that was the spot that made Armin go wild--but mostly he stayed focused on Armin’s lips, drinking him in like Jean was trying to savor the taste of him. His hands, holding Armin close, were careful and gentle--not at all what Armin had expected. He couldn’t say he was mad about it. 

Armin himself was clumsy and inexperienced. He had kissed before, but that didn’t mean he was good at it, and he found himself apologizing every couple minutes. Jean didn’t seem to mind. He would just laugh a little bit and run a thumb over Armin’s cheek or bring a hand up to his shoulder before diving back in.

It made Armin a little woozy. He liked the feeling. 

He wasn’t sure quite how long they stayed like that. Funnily enough, he wasn’t too focused on keeping track of time. There were a lot of things distracting him--namely, the smell of Jean’s cologne and the softness of Jean’s hair and the warmth of Jean’s body and just Jean, generally. 

Eventually, one of them--Armin genuinely wasn’t sure whether it was him or Jean--initiated a shift in position until they were both sitting up, but they maintained their physical proximity; Armin’s hands were still around Jean’s neck, Jean’s still on Armin’s hips.

“It’s getting late,” Jean said, between long, sweet kisses. 

“Yeah,” Armin breathed. “You should go.”

Jean nodded, his eyes locked on Armin’s lips. “Yeah, I should.”

He held Armin closer and kissed him again. Armin held no objections.

“Maybe,” Jean murmured against his lips, just far enough away to form coherent sounds. “Maybe I can stay for a little while more.”

“Yeah.” Armin curled his fingers against the base of Jean’s neck. He liked the way Jean’s arms felt against his waist. “Yeah, I’m okay with that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Hey.” Jean leaned his forehead against Armin’s, allowing them enough space to breathe for a moment. “Not that I’m complaining, but… Why did you kiss me?”

“Oh,” said Armin. His stomach was doing somersaults and his head felt light. It was hard to concentrate when Jean was so close to him. “Uh… I’m not sure.”

“Oh,” said Jean. He leaned back a bit, breaking the intimacy between them. 

“But it was because I wanted to,” said Armin, taking Jean’s face between his hands. “I think… I think I’ve wanted to for a while now.”

Jean smiled and moved his arms from around Armin’s middle to take the blond’s hands in his own. He gingerly pressed a kiss to each of Armin’s palms. “I’ve wanted to for a while, too,” he said. “For a long time.”

Armin’s heart had stopped--or maybe it was just beating too fast to register. “How long?”

Jean looked at him through his lashes. “Do you remember when you walked in on me playing Sweater Weather?”

Armin did remember. More specifically, he remembered how _awkward_ he had been during that interaction. He had to stop himself from physically cringing. “Yeah. Why?”

“Remember when I asked you if you _liked_ that song?”

“Uh, yes?”

Jean raised his eyebrows. “You really don’t get it, huh? Armin, that song’s like… a bisexual anthem. I was trying to ask you if you liked guys.”

“Oh,” said Armin. “ _Oh_.”

And suddenly everything made sense.

“Jesus,” Jean chuckled, “I thought you were just turning me down.”

“Sorry,” Armin whispered.

“Don’t be.” Jean planted a kiss on his cheek. “Things worked out, didn’t they?”

Armin couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah. I guess they did.” He brushed Jean’s hair back from his forehead, marveling at the way it shined even in the light of his dorm’s ceiling lamp. “I’d like to keep this up, if you don’t mind.”

Jean grinned that familiar grin of his. “Right now? Or… In the future?”

“Both?” offered Armin. 

“Both,” Jean echoed. “Both is good.”

Armin hummed. “Private concerts, and now kissing.” He ran the pad of his thumb over Jean’s lips. Jean kissed it tenderly. “We’ve definitely become pretty fast friends.”

“To be fair, I don’t think what we’re doing now falls under the umbrella of ‘friends.’”

“What umbrella does this fall under, then?”

The corner of Jean’s mouth quirked up. “Boyfriends, usually.”

Armin felt a steady blush creep across his cheeks. “Boyfriends?”

“Yep.” 

“Okay,” said Armin. “Boyfriends.”

There was a full smile over Jean’s face now, bright and unrestrained. “Okay.” He took Armin’s hand again and pressed a kiss over his knuckles. “Boyfriends,” he said again, his smile still wide. 

Armin rolled his eyes, his chest bursting. “Silly,” he whispered.

His lips found Jean’s again, and as Jean once more pulled him close, all Armin could think was how much he didn’t want this to end.

October 30 

“Why is your guitar called _Sexy Susan_?”

The two of them were on Jean’s bed. He was gearing up to play Armin another of those private concerts--a potential song for his party setlist that he wanted to try out on his boyfriend first. Even though he would probably also be at this party, Armin had agreed. He secretly really loved when Jean played just for him. 

“Because she’s _sexy_.” Jean stroked a finger along the guitar’s fretboard. “And, I don’t know, she just seems like a Susan.”

“She wasn’t named after anyone?”

Jean looked at him with a teasing grin. “What Susan could she be named after?”

“Susan…” Oh God. No famous Susans came to mind. Susan Bullock? No, that was Sandra. Susan Egan? There was no way Jean knew who that was. Susan… whatever her name is, the CEO of Youtube? Definitely no. Armin ended up blurting the first musically-inclined, decently famous Susan he could think of. “Susan, uh… Boyle?”

“Susan Boyle.” There was no smile on Jean’s face now.

“Uh… Yes?”

“The _Britain’s Got Talent_ lady. I Dreamed A Dream.”

“Yeah. Susan Boyle.”

Jean wordlessly turned back to picking at his guitar strings.

“...Jean?”

No reply.

A smile took over Armin’s face. “Jean, are you seriously mad at me? For suggesting that you named your guitar after _Susan Boyle_?”

“Not mad,” he grumbled. “Just… upset.”

Armin rolled his eyes and leaned back on Jean’s bed. “For the record,” he said, “I do think she’s very sexy.”

Jean looked at him with stars in his eyes, like a child on Christmas morning.

Armin giggled and shut his eyes. “Just play.”

Jean settled his guitar on his lap and glanced over. “Just for the record,” he said, “ _if_ there’s a Susan she’s named after, it’s Susan Egan.”

“ _What!_ ” Armin opened his eyes and slammed his hand down on the mattress. “I thought you wouldn’t know who she is!”

“Of _course_ I know who she is!” Jean sniffed. “She played Belle on Broadway _and_ Megara in Hercules. I know my Disney princesses, Arlert.”

“Sorry for doubting you,” Armin said, smiling.

“You should be. Ready?”

“Yep.”

Jean started to play--and for a moment, Armin thought it was Imagine. He didn’t know much about music, but the opening chords sounded the same. He closed his eyes again, expecting to hear some calming John Lennon.

“ _Slip inside the eye of your mind…_ ”

Okay, _definitely_ not Imagine.

Armin didn’t know the song, but he liked it. It worked well for Jean’s voice--upbeat, but with an air of nostalgia that worked well for him. He seemed in his element. Armin wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to the way Jean looked while he was playing: serene, but in control. It was different privately than it was at a party. Whenever he started playing for Armin, Jean always looked kind of nervous, but as he had now, he quickly sank into the rhythm of the song. Jean was definitely a college dorm party guitar player, but in these moments--the quiet, intimate ones--Armin was reminded that for all of his pomp, he was a genuinely good musician. 

The song ended quietly: “ _Don’t look back in anger… I heard you say_.”

“Whoa,” said Armin.

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah, of course.” He sat up and tucked his legs under him. “What song was that?”

Jean smirked. “You’re going to laugh.”

“Uh… Okay?”

“It’s Don’t Look Back In Anger,” he said. “By Oasis.”

Armin choked.

“I _told_ you!”

“Oasis? Like… Like _Wonderwall_ Oasis?”

“The same.”

“Oh my god,” said Armin. “I _liked_ it.”

“People always rip on Wonderwall! Oasis is a great band!”

Armin hummed, struck suddenly by the thought that the same thing could be said about Jean almost verbatim. 

“Will you keep playing?” he asked. “I liked that.”

Jean scratched his eyebrow. “I don’t know if I know anything else right now that you would know, or that you haven’t already heard.” He glanced up. “Unless… you want to request something?”

“ _Nope_. That’s okay,” said Armin. “I don’t mind.”

“Alright. If you’re sure.”

Armin laid back down and shut his eyes. “Of course I am.”

Jean was right--Armin didn’t know most of the songs he played, and the ones he did, he had already heard either at a party or privately--but it didn’t matter. It was enough for him just to listen.

**Jean Kirschtein:**

[8:12 pm] **hey isn’t your birthday coming up soon**

[8:15 pm] _Yeah it’s November 3_

[8:15 pm] _Why_

[8:16 pm] **because i want to get you something**

[8:16 pm] _You really don’t have to do that_

[8:17 pm] **hmmm but i really do though**

[8:17 pm] **what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn’t get you a birthday present??**

[8:18 pm] **come on arlert think a little**

[8:18 pm] _Fine_

[8:18 pm] _But there’s only one thing I want_

[8:18 pm] **ask and you shall receive**

[8:19 pm] **uh assuming it’s reasonably priced because i am a college student**

[8:20 pm] _I want a jacket with a picture of your face on the back_

[8:22 pm] **um**

[8:22 pm] **okay?**

[8:22 pm] **can i ask why?**

[8:23 pm] _Because then I’ll have a_

[8:23 pm] _JEAN JACKET_

[8:24 pm] **OH**

[8:24 pm] **OH SHIT**

[8:24 pm] **THAT WAS GOOD**

[8:25 pm] _Thanks_

[8:25 pm] _I learned from the best_

[8:26 pm] **yeah you did**

[8:27 pm] **but seriously what do you want for your birthday**

[8:31 pm] _Nothing! Please don’t get me anything you really don’t have to_

[8:33 pm] **you’re infuriating**

[8:34 pm] **i’m asking eren**

[8:34 pm] _Eren won’t tell you anything_

[8:35 pm] **mikasa then**

[8:36 pm] **nope just ran that one through in my head and it’s a BAD idea**

[8:37 pm] _:)_

[8:38 pm] **i’m still getting you a present I just have to figure out what it is first**

[8:40 pm] _Good luck with that_

October 31 

It was Halloween night, and Armin was lying in bed.

He was scrolling through Snapchat, looking at everyone else having fun at parties. There was Marco, his face painted like a skull--why he only ever showed half of his face in selfies, Armin would never understand--and then there were Mikasa and Eren, her as a witch and him as Iron Man. Throughout high school, the three of them had always done a group costume. Neither of them had really been into the idea when Armin brought it up this year.

He tossed his phone down and ran his hands over his face. There was a great grey heaviness in his chest that spread out through his limbs and weighed him down. He hated the feeling of it, but he wasn’t quite sure what he could do to make it go away. He felt a little like crying, but he doubted that would do anything but make him feel worse for himself.

A sudden knock sounded at his door, followed by a slightly panicked “Armin?”

His curiosity won over his apathy, and he found it within himself to get up and open the door. 

Jean was braced against the frame, panting. He was wearing a large black cape with red lining over a black waistcoat and a billowy white undershirt, unlaced to his bellybutton. He also wore jeans and Nikes, which clashed quite a bit with the aesthetic of his torso. His normally shaggy hair had been gelled back, and there was black around his eyes--rather messily applied eyeliner. He made it work. Sexy Susan was clutched in his right hand.

“Uh, hey,” said Armin, trying his best to take this all in. “How’s it going?”

“How’s it--” Jean squinted, trying to catch his breath. “What the fuck do you mean, _how’s it going_? Where did you go? Didn’t you get my texts?”

Armin furrowed his brow. “Um, no. I didn’t. Is everything okay?”

Jean lowered his brow and withdrew his phone from his back pocket. “You’re kidding, right?” He held the phone out so Armin could read the screen--a series of blue text messages:

**blond dora:**

[10:06 pm] _hey babe let me know when you get to this party, it’s pretty solid but it would be MORE solid with you here ;)_

[10:20 pm] _i just saw eren and mikasa! where are you they said you split off a while ago_

[10:34 pm] _armin are you okay? you kinda disappeared ahaha you’re missing a sick party_

[10:41 pm] _hey for real no one knows where you went, is everything alright??_

[10:45 pm] _armin please pick up, we’re starting to get really worried_

[10:52 pm] _okay i’m coming in to check in your room, please be in there_

“Why am I in your phone as _Blond Dora?_ ”

“I told you,” Jean said, “it was funny. And not the point right now.” He stuffed his phone back into his pocket. “You’ve had me worried sick about you for an hour. You left the party very suddenly, and didn’t tell anyone you were leaving, and then didn’t answer any texts or calls--”

Armin left the door open and retrieved his phone from his bed. No alerts. “Must be something with my data. I guess they just didn’t go through--”

“ _Armin_.” The heavy tone of Jean’s voice forced Armin’s head up. “I didn’t know what happened to you. I… I thought…” He stumbled over and slumped down onto the futon. “I don’t even know what I thought.”

Armin mirrored the same position on his bed. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I just wanted to come back to my dorm.”

“Jesus, Arlert.” Jean shook a hand through his slicked-back undercut, loosening it back into its usual shaggy state. “You really had me going there for a second.”

“Sorry,” Armin repeated. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hooked his arms around his legs. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“It’s alright,” Jean mumbled, studying Armin’s position. “Is everything okay?”

He shrugged. “Fine.”

Jean knit his brow and moved across the room to sit next to Armin on the bed. “You don’t look fine, and it isn’t like you to leave without saying goodbye to anyone.”

Armin hugged his knees closer. “I just, uh, wasn’t feeling well. And… I don’t really like big parties like that.”

“Really?” There was genuine surprise on Jean’s face. “I had no idea.”

“I’m not a big fan of crowds. Or a bunch of people talking at once. Or alcohol. Or… you know, general party things.”

“Then… why have you come to every party so far?”

Armin shrugged. “Eren likes them, and Mikasa tolerates them enough to go with him, and I like hanging out with them. Usually I can handle it alright.” He glanced up at Jean. “And I guess recently I’ve had another reason to show up.”

A small smile flashed over Jean’s face--flattered, but quick. “I’m sorry you felt uncomfortable tonight,” he said. “I can stay with you if you want--”

“No,” Armin interjected. “You should go and have fun. I don’t want to hold you back from the party.”

“You aren’t holding me back from anything. I’m choosing to stay.”

“But you always seem so in your element at parties--and especially tonight--”

“ _Armin._ ” Jean’s eyes were piercing. “If you really don’t want me here, then I’ll go. But I’m offering to stay with you because I _want_ to.”

Armin blinked at him--his hair a tousled mess, the eyeliner smudging around his lower lashline, dressed in a ridiculous outfit, and offering to stay _just for him_. “You can stay,” he murmured. “If you’d like. I’d enjoy the company.”

A full smile settled on Jean’s face now. “Excellent,” he said. “I _did_ bring Sexy Susan. You missed a fantastic rendition of This Is Halloween.”

This conversation--this teasing--felt familiar, and though that weight still lay in Armin’s chest, he couldn’t help but lighten a bit. “I’m sure I did. Did you do the voices?”

“Of _course_ I did. What kind of performer do you think I am?”

“Somehow I can’t imagine you impersonating all the citizens of Halloween Town.”

“You better believe it,” said Jean proudly. “I was the most convincing Boogeyman you’ve ever seen.”

“I’m sorry I missed it, then.” Armin crossed his legs and scooted closer to Jean. “What else was on the setlist?”

“Oh, all the usuals. The Monster Mash, Ghostbusters, Thriller, Sweet Transvestite…”

“Now _that_ one I’d like to see.”

“I make a killer Frank N Furter.” Jean glanced over at Armin, looking him up and down. “Did you have a costume tonight? Or were you just wearing these clothes?”

Armin looked down at the outfit he’d been wearing the whole night: worn sneakers, a pair of ill-fitting jeans, and a red and black flannel over a simple grey t-shirt. After Mikasa and Eren split off and dressed up on their own, he didn’t really feel into the idea of a costume. “Uh,” he said, “I’m 90s Ellen?”

Jean snorted and put a hand to his head. “Aw, damn! I chose the wrong joke for your contact name!”

“Serves you right,” mumbled Armin. Jean lightly pushed him with his shoulder. “And you’re, uh…. A sexy vampire?”

“Just a vampire, actually,” Jean said, a lopsided grin taking over his face, “but I’m _so_ glad to hear you think I’m sexy.”

Armin could feel his face growing red. “You… Your shirt is unlaced all the way down your chest! You’re wearing _eyeliner_!”

“Yeah, that’s just how vampire fashion is.”

“You’re infuriating,” groaned Armin, burying his face in his hands.

He heard Jean hum beside him. “I’m cheering you up though, aren’t I?”

“...No comment.”

Jean chuckled and brought Sexy Susan up into his lap. “Alright. I’ve got a song for you, if you’re up to hear it.”

“Sure,” said Armin, laying back so his head was on his pillow and praying that his face wasn’t as flushed as it felt. “What are you thinking? Time Warp? Hot Patootie, Bless My Soul?”

“Not quite.” Jean tossed a smile Armin’s way. “Something a little different.”

Armin closed his eyes. “I’m all ears.”

Picked chords filled the small dorm room. Jean’s voice followed, smooth and clear: “ _Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night, and wouldn’t you love to love her_ …”

Armin had never considered Jean singing Fleetwood Mac before, but here he was--and here was his voice, with the same gentle rasp as Stevie’s and a touch of his own resonant tone. Rhiannon had never struck Armin as a Halloween song. Now, laying curled up and cozy on a brisk fall night, with Jean’s haunting, warm voice echoing through his room, it seemed like an obvious pick.

“ _Dreams unwind, love’s a state of mind…_ ”

Wild, wasn’t it, that Jean--who had made his first impression playing a truly shitty cover of Wonderwall at a college dorm party--had now become one of the only people who could comfort Armin when he was feeling his worst. He doubted even Eren or Mikasa could have had this effect. In that moment, listening to a Fleetwood Mac guitar cover was exactly what Armin had needed. He hadn’t even really known that until Jean had started playing, but it seemed so clear to him now. He kept his eyes closed, listening carefully and attentively as Jean played out the rest of the song.

Armin could imagine Jean looking over as he finished, though he didn’t open his eyes. “How are you feeling?” he whispered.

“Better,” replied Armin. “Lots better.”

Who knew that a boy dressed as a vampire could feel so much like home?

November 1 

**Jean Kirschtein:**

[1:09 am] _Link: (Don’t Fear) The Reaper_

[1:34 am] **holy shit**

[1:34 am] **did you just send me a song request**

[1:41 am] _Don’t get a big head about it_

[1:42 am] _I just think you’d sound good singing it_

[1:45 am] **HOLY SHIT**

[1:45 am] **this is the best moment of my entire life**

[1:47 am] _I said don’t get a big head about it_

[1:47 am] **my head is normal sized**

[1:48 am] **...but my heart is bursting**

[1:48 am] _Oh my god_

[1:48 am] _I have so much regret_

[1:54 am] **i’m learning it right now**

[1:54 am] **will you join me on cowbell**

[1:56 am] _God No_

[1:56 am] **armin**

[1:57 am] **armin i’ve got a fever**

[1:57 am] **and the only prescription**

[1:57 am] **is more cowbell**

[1:58 am] _This is the worst thing you’ve ever done to me_

[1:58 am] _I’m going to bed good night_

November 3 

**Eren Jaeger:**

[12:01 am] **HAPPY BIRTHDAY**

**Mikasa Ackerman:**

[8:13 am] **happy birthday armin!**

**Marco Bodt:**

[10:45 am] **hey happy bday!!**

Armin never got a happy birthday text from Jean. He realized this fact as he and Jean were both lying on Armin’s bed, taking a moment--or, rather, quite a few moments--for themselves after a long day of classes. Armin was nestled into the crook between Jean’s chest and his arm, reading a book for his fiction class, while Jean idly ran his fingers through Armin’s hair and scrolled through something on his phone. It was a simple moment, but a quiet one. Neither of them needed to talk to know they were both perfectly content.

Somehow Armin wasn’t so bothered about the text thing.

The book he was reading was good, but he found it hard to focus. For one, he was close enough to Jean that he could hear his heartbeat, and the calm, steady rhythm somehow made it harder to concentrate on the words in front of him. His brain kept flying off to different topics--Jean’s cologne, how much he felt like he could take a nap right here, the wonderfully chilly fall weather outside, how much he’d rather be curled up reading _another_ book, his favorite book...

“Oh. Hey,” said Armin, poking Jean in the chest. “You still have my copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

“Oh shit,” Jean said, his fingers pausing for a moment in Armin’s hair. “Yeah, I do. You want it back?”

“No. Keep it.”

“What? Isn’t it, like, your favorite book?”

Armin shrugged against Jean’s torso. “I have two other copies. I’m not missing it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” said Jean, but Armin felt the hum of his chest more than he heard the sound of his words.

“I know.”

“Jesus, how long have I had that book?”

“Hmm.” Armin wrinkled his nose in thought. “Uh… I think I gave it to you in like… mid-October?”

“Maybe? Oh, hang on, I can scroll back through our texts.”

Armin looked up at Jean with raised eyebrows. “That’s going to be a _lot_ of scrolling.”

His boyfriend looked at him with a grin. “It’ll be worth it.”

Armin shrugged, trying to suppress a smile, and absentmindedly watched Jean’s thumb furiously swipe against his screen for a good couple of minutes. It was strange, seeing all of their messages of the past few weeks. Armin hadn’t realized just how much they had texted each other. It never felt like that often in the moment, but now, with the visual of all of their conversations scrolling past in succession, it was hard to miss just how much they’d gotten closer.

Armin readjusted his position on Jean’s chest as he reached the very top of the message chain. “Ah, here we go… October 18.”

Just a couple of weeks ago. Armin hadn’t even _liked_ Jean then, and now? Well, now things were different.

Armin stared at Jean’s phone, reading what he could of their old messages, until something caught his eye. “Hey, wait a second. Let me see that.” Jean tilted his phone down so Armin could squint up at the screen. “Did you change my contact name?”

“Oh! Yeah, I did.” Jean handed Armin his phone with a mischievous grin. At the top of the screen read “prince chARMINg ❤”. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Armin laughed, handing Jean’s phone back and playfully shoving his arm away from him. “That’s not even funny.”

He smiled as he tucked away his phone and laid his other hand over Armin’s waist. “You’re smiling pretty big about it.”

Armin rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t leave his face. “No comment.”

Jean grinned and planted a kiss on his temple.

It seemed silly that at nineteen, Armin could still get butterflies over something so simple and sweet.

Carefully lifting Armin off of his torso, Jean swung his legs over the side of the bed and picked up Sexy Susan. “Alright. It’s time.”

Armin snorted, scooting over to allow Jean room to sit. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

“Of _course_ I have, Armin.”

“So have I.” He pursed his lips to keep from smiling. “I have a request for you.”

Jean’s head snapped up, his eyes alight. “You--really?”

“Yep.”

“You don’t think you’re, you know, enabling me?”

“No, I definitely am.” Armin turned so that he was sitting cross legged, facing Jean at his headboard. “But I don’t mind.”

Jean’s ears were bright pink, his grin taking up almost his entire face. “Okay. Okay. I’m so excited. Tell me what you want to hear.”

It had been a hard choice--he had actually spent quite a bit of time trying to decide--but Armin was confident in his pick. “God Only Knows,” he said. “By the Beach Boys.”

“Oh, shit,” said Jean. “You know that song is, like, notoriously weird to play, right?”

“What?”

“Yeah, there’s a whole thing about how, like, no one can really decide on what key it’s in, and it uses a ton of inverted chords, and it’s just really odd to see written out. I’ve never tried to play it before.”

Armin was feeling far less confident in his pick.

“I can come up with a different song,” he offered.

“ _Nope_. I’m playing what you want to hear. Just give me a second.” He searched for the chords on his phone and looked over them for a moment, humming to himself a little. He grabbed his capo and clamped it over the second fret. “Yeah, alright. This’ll work.”

“Are you sure? Because--”

“Armin.” Jean caught his eye and winked. “Relax. Enjoy. Happy birthday.”

Armin laid back and tried to follow his advice.

It was Armin’s opinion that God Only Knows was one of the greatest songs ever written. There was something about its simplicity that just got to him every time. It had been one of his grandpa’s favorites, and Armin had carried that same love with him since he was a kid.

Suffice it to say that Jean did it justice.

He slowed down the tempo a bit, picking the chords instead of strumming them. It reminded Armin of the Take On Me cover he had done however long ago--the same cover, he now realized, that had started to turn his opinion of Jean. It was a strange parallel; then, Armin had been listening as a coincidental bystander; now, he was listening as Jean’s boyfriend, as the sole intended audience member for this private concert. 

“ _God only knows what I’d be without you…_ ”

They’d both changed so much since then--or, at least, Armin had. He’d learned a new side of Jean. He’d learned a new side of _himself._ He had never thought that he could be brave--not like Eren or Mikasa, anyways. All it took was Jean Kirschtein for him to learn that he had his own kind of bravery.

He propped himself up on his elbows as Jean struck the last chord and gazed at him through lowered lashes. “Was that good?”

“Perfect,” breathed Armin, because his heart was too full to say anything else.

Jean smiled and took the capo off of Sexy Susan. “I have a song for you, too.” 

Armin bit his lip. “Really?”

“Really.” He looked at him. “I think you’ll like it. Oh, but first…” He reached over into his backpack and pulled out a small plastic grocery bag, wrapped around something rectangular. “Uh, sorry about the wrapping job--there really are _not_ any gift bags on campus--but here you go. Happy birthday.”

Armin raised an eyebrow as he took the bag. The object inside was thick and heavy. “This is unexpected.”

“What? I told you I was going to get you a gift.”

“I know, but I guess I just… didn’t really expect one.”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Just open it already.”

Armin complied, unwrapping the bag from around the object and slipping it out. It was a book, with a soft, elaborate violet cover. Embossed in gold lettering on the front were the words _The Picture of Dorian Gray._

Laughter bubbled its way through Armin’s chest. “You’re _kidding_.”

“If there’s one thing you should know about me by now, it’s that I keep all of my promises.” Jean’s lips curved into a crescent moon smile. “You said you’d read it, so I thought I’d make that process easier for you.”

Armin ran his fingers over the cover and thumbed through the pages, unsure of what to say.

“You, uh, like it right? Like, is it okay--”

Jean stopped as Armin leaned forward and kissed him, going up on his knees to get around the guitar still laying over Jean’s lap. “It’s perfect,” Armin whispered, leaning his forehead against his boyfriend’s. 

Jean quickly slid Sexy Susan down onto the floor, wrapping an arm around Armin’s waist to pull him closer. “I’m glad you like it,” he murmured. “I guess we match now.”

Armin linked his arms around Jean’s neck and tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“I have a copy of _Pride and Prejudice_. You have a copy of _The Picture of Dorian Gray_.” Jean grinned. “We traded. We match.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Armin said, just before he kissed him again.

Armin wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but he could have done it all night. There was something so good about this--about this warmth and intimacy and trust. If this was what Armin’s nineteenth year had in store, then there was a lot to look forward to.

Jean pulled back first, resting a hand against Armin’s chest as though to steady himself. “We’re going to come back to this,” he breathed, “but I’m dying to play you that song.”

Armin laughed. “Alright. As long as you promise we’ll pick up right where we left off.”

“Oh, you know me and promises.” Jean picked up Sexy Susan as Armin leaned back and resumed his position from before. “You good?”

“I’m ready when you are.”

“Alright,” Jean murmured. “Alright.”

He began to play.

Armin wasn’t familiar with the song. It was slow and soft--nostalgic somehow, though Armin was sure he had never heard it before. Even before Jean started singing, the song had broken Armin open, making him feel vulnerable and exposed. He wondered if this was how Jean felt while playing.

“ _If I ever were to lose you, I’d surely lose myself…_ ”

The melody was simple, but it left plenty of room for the lyrics. Jean’s voice was filled with emotion as he sang of crooked hearts, of hurricanes, of promises at sundown. Armin was glad Jean was mostly turned away from him and focused on playing, or he would have seen Armin’s eyes glisten with rogue, traitorous tears.

“ _You and me… Days of you and me._ ”

Jean’s voice was barely a whisper by the final line. He drew in a shaky breath; he seemed to be just as affected as Armin was. Armin quickly ran his fingers under his eyes as his boyfriend looked over to see his reaction.

“Oh, shit,” said Jean, “did I just make you cry on your birthday?”

“A little bit,” laughed Armin, sitting up and scrubbing away the remaining water on his face. “Good tears, though.”

Jean’s lips curved up, just slightly. “I get it. That one always gets me too.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”

“Really?” Jean ducked under his guitar strap and set Sexy Susan off to the side. “It’s Future Days. By Pearl Jam.”

“You’re kidding me. Did I for real just cry over _Pearl Jam_?”

“I think you did.”

“Oh my _god._ ” Armin flopped back down onto his bed. “Nineteen is already shaping up to be a weird year.”

Jean chuckled and leaned back against the wall, tracing circles along the hem of Armin’s pant leg. “Weird indeed.”

From this angle, Jean was illuminated from behind by the setting November sun. It made his hair shine gold and his features stand stark. Sexy Susan’s strings gleamed next to him. 

“Weird,” repeated Armin, smiling. “Definitely didn’t see this coming. But… good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And it was.


End file.
